Train Tracks in the Smokey Mountains.. “Stories I make up “inside my head”  when it’s a bad pain day”

PART ONE

Sometimes, when the pain 😢 is so excruciating, like today and all I can do is take deep breaths, praying that it will pass, as well as desperately trying to go to sleep with an ice bag, I make up stories “inside my head” in order to keep myself somewhat calm.😮‍💨 Sometimes, it works, but unfortunately, most of the time, it doesn’t 😕

One of the stories involves Max and me walking down what seems like an isolated railroad track 🛤 in the Smoky Mountains ⛰️ of Tennessee, under a bright glowing moon 🌙 and a soothing inky black sky. The night air smells sweet, and the fireflies glow around us. We look up and see what looks like a million twinkling stars. The misty fog hangs low over the green mountains. In the distance, we can hear the faint whistle of a lonely long-forgotten train as it echoes through the night 🌙.

As we continue walking, we can see some puffy grayish clouds ⛅️, and then it starts to rain softly. The falling water refreshes us and makes the grass all around smell freshly cut.

We each decide that we should look for a cozy dry place to spend the night 🌙. We are each carrying only small knapsacks, but they miraculously have everything we need.

We both head towards a long-abandoned overpass that has been overtaken by soft, leafy, bright green kudzu. After making an area for ourselves among the leaves 🍃 😌, we open our patchwork quilted knapsacks.

To discover our meal for the night 🌙 😋, I give Max generous helpings of rare roast beef cooked and dripping with spicy onion gravy. 🌰 The delicious smell wafts through the sweet night air 😋. As he begins to eat, I hand him plates of macaroni and cheese 🧀 with the cheese bubbling and sizzling on top until it is yellow and brown in color.

For the last course, I hand him plates of southern-style mashed potatoes 🥔 😋, smooth and thick and milky white with a layer of fresh yellow melted butter 🧈 on top, which melts in our mouths and dribbles down our chins.

After supper 🍽, we pull some old, weathered but comfortable sleeping 😴 bags from our pack. The thickening night air is cool but not cold, so we do not need a fire 🔥. I open my sleeping bag, and Max crawls in; he is fuzzy and soft, and we cuddle up together as more fog rolls in from the rain. We drift off to sleep, content, and happy with full bellies and another distant train whistle echoing through the air.

At around 5 AM, Max’s soft nuzzle awakens me. He motions that we should be getting on with our journey. The rain has stopped ✋️, and nature sounds fill the air; frogs and birds, cicadas abound, having been refreshed by the small shower 🚿.

We pack up our knapsacks slowly 🐌 because, after all, there really is no hurry. We don’t have any plans, and we don’t exactly know where we are going.

We climb back up onto the tracks with our knapsacks. We both nod at each other in agreement, and it isn’t too long before we disappear into the mountains surrounded by glistening white fog, hoping for more things to bring us peace and joy. 😄